


Spinning Bottles

by Bexinthecity247



Category: Miss Scarlet and the Duke (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Longing, Love, William is in emotional agony, eliza wants to help, warning for some drunkness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25489345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bexinthecity247/pseuds/Bexinthecity247
Summary: In the aftermath of Frank's betrayal, William has gone missing and Eliza goes looking for him.Aka - William is a bit depressed and angry, and Eliza takes care of him."This ain't a gameNobody winsYeah, nobody gets lucky when that bottle spins"
Relationships: Eliza Scarlet/William 'The Duke' Wellington, Eliza Scarlet/William Wellington, Eliza/William
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72
Collections: Carrie Underwood 'Cry Pretty' Series





	Spinning Bottles

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first MS&TD story - so please be kind :) 
> 
> I've loved getting to know you guys on the discord and you've inspired me to actually write this lol.
> 
> The story is based on Carrie Underwood's "Spinning Bottles" and originally was going to be one long shot but since I've nearly reached the 2k mark for only half of it, I would split it.
> 
> Anyway enjoy!  
> Kudos & Comments make me happy happy happy <3

It was not Eliza’s  intentions when she woke that morning, to chase down one William Wellington to his place of residence. But the fact remained that she did, unfortunately need his esteemed help on one of her cases. 

Except he had not attended her office as per her note had requested and now, rather in a huff at once again being let down by the man, because no doubt she thought, he’d be drinking and gambling somewhere in a pit of London. Or worse still, she’d find him in one of the upmarket brothe ls that all the Scotland Yard men went to. 

She hid her grimace at the idea as she walked the distance to Scotland Yard, hoping to walk off some of the irritated energy before she got there, eager to avert another argument, especially since she did need his help. She rolled her shoulders and stepped into the chaotic world of the police station. 

In the foyer alone there were several drunks, a man, howling, with a shard of glass lodged in his right eye and two women leaning on the sergeant’s desk, no doubt offerin g Alfred a healthy view of their ample breasts.

Alfred could handle a couple of prostitutes alone, Eliza decided as she skirted skillfully  around the drunks that PC  Honeychurch was unsuccessfully like an inept dog trying to herd cats.

“Miss Scarlet!” he cried over the din and she knew he’d no doubt try and stop her, to lie that William was in a meeting or not there at all, simply because he didn’t wish to see her.

So she pretended she hadn’t heard and dived into corridor that led to the inspector offices. Scotland Yard had already been in chaos after Stirling was murdered but things had taken a dramatic turn when Detective Jenkins (an odious man in Eliza’s opinion) was arrested and disgr aced. The department then fell into complete disarray. She’d understood, (though kept her distance) that things had improved now Jenkins’ replacement had arrived from Kent but even now, there was  an un usual buzz about the place like a ship without a captain. 

Unease grew inside her heart as she pushed open William’s door

“William, you really should think-” she stopped short of the desk when her intended inspector was not in fact present as she’d expected. Instead the man sitting in William’s chair , rather severe looking, was in fact the new detective sergeant.

He looked at her with a deer in headlights ex pression that likely mirrored her own.

“Oh...” she squeaked, looking around as if expecting William to be hiding behind the door. Predictably he was not. “I was looking for Inspector Wellington...”

The man, Rourke she thought, sat up a little straighter, setting his features to cover his surprise at her intrusion, and dropped the file he was reading, (William’s file!), to the desk, fixing her with a cold hard glance that was so like the inspector... except it held none of the softness that usually settled at the corner of his eyes no matter how ma d he was.

“Yes well, so are the rest of us,” Rourke grumbled, halting Eliza in her tracks.

“You mean he hasn’t been here this morning at all?” she stared at him, aware that she looked far from ladylike.

“Miss Scarlet, Inspector Wellington has not been in for three days,” the man almost snarled as if it should have been obvious.

And yet no one seemed at all concerned.

“Has anyone been to check on him?” she asked, that terrible unease flaring back up, like the coil of dread she’d felt when searching for her father.

“I’m reliably informed that Wellington will be off with some tart, nursing a  two-day hangover.”

He resumed his reading of whatever case he had been interested in.

“Informed by whom?” she barely rasped. This man had to know he was talking about his superior, whilst sitting in his office.

“From the men,” he only said, tone plain and bored.

“With respect detective, I’ve known William a long time, longer than I can even remember and I have never known him to miss a day at work.”

Eliza fisted her hand on her hip and tried to look  authoritative . 

“Well he has left us in a very precarious position, and so I must get back...” He was dismissive, waving her away and even Eliza Scarlet, as stubborn as she was, saw no point in arguing with him. 

She left in a huff, leaving the office door hanging open in a small victory but she didn’t wait for his  irritation to explode. Instead she had work to do, a new case.

Even if it wasn’t a paying one, she thought grimly. No. William was a dear friend and that alone was enough for her; they always took care of one another in any way possible. More so since her father had died... was murdered. She’d once told William that her father  had left her all alone but even now she knew that wasn’t true.

The inspector was everything to her, even if she didn’t always like admitting it. 

The moment she was on the street, Eliza looked up and down for the first free passing hack. To her dismay however, the road was mostly empty save  f or the police carriage. She bit her lip and verged on hyperventilation.

“Do you need some help. Miss?” Arthur’s voice cut across her misted thoughts and she looked at him for a long moment before contemplating a reply.

“Oh Arthur. Yes. Can you take me to Inspector Wellington’s residence, please,” she said with a confidence she didn’t  feel. He looked unsure, about to politely decline; eager to  respect the officer’s privacy no doubt. “I’m quite worried about him.”

He  tilted his head and she smiled gratefully, heaving open the door and settling herself inside the plush hackney carriage , though the tightness of anxiety stole any joy away from her. The carriage rocked and rattled over the cracked streets of London and after enough turns to make anyone queasy, they finally came to a stop at a respectable if somewhat desolate and unusual street. She’d been there only once when Henry helped him move in so many moons ago, and as she stepped  from the carriage  into what most have been the most  bizarrely bleak road this end of London. 

Eliza turned her head back and forth, looking at the expanse of  similarly placed houses that looked almost the same as her impressive townhouse family home. Except these houses were somewhat in disrepair at least, the ones nearest to her, at the mouth of the road. 

Her heart sank in dismay. She would never remember which house was his; she’d never wanted to come with her father all those years  ago, so she’d never cared to pay attention. She looked back at Arthur  pitifully.

“His is that one, on the end.” Arthur pointed to the most reasonable looking house and she bit back a smile. She should have known that was his.

It was the tidiest, and the most out of the way house in the street and he was always  impeccable where she was messy.  Henry used to say they’d complimented one another as if he was hinting at something  only he knew.

“Would you like me to wait, Miss Scarlet?” Arthur said and she spun to look at him . How long WAS she planning to  be there? She had no idea what lay on the other side of the door.

“No, that’s okay Arthur.”

He tipped his hat and reared the horses into action,  and pulled away, leaving her alone and a little dazed . She lifted her chin defiantly and strode past house that probably housed oversized families and stopped at William’s. She’d always assumed he had subsequently moved to somewhere  more telling of his class and means. After all he was a man of a fairly  livable wealth and he was widely respected. But that was something else she  lov ... liked about William; he was always willing to live as his lower off icers would. He never lauded his position nor his class. 

She knocked on the door, stepping back politely to await his appearance. None came and so she waited some more, moving forward only to knock again once enough time had passed.  Agai n , William didn’t  appear, and Eliza chewed the inside of her lip.

Why had she sent the carriage away?!

She only coyly looked around momentarily before she moved to the window, cupping her hands to peer into the orderly  front room. Nothing seemed amiss...and she growled in frustration, digging her hands, (in a very unladylike way, her father would say) through t he small flowerpot adorning the front step. She kept digging until she her gloves were black with dirt. 

“Damnit, William,” she hissed, drawing up to her full height emptyhanded.

Eliza gripped her waist and looked skyward, huffing out her agitation before her eyes slowly connected with the door frame. Of course.

Stretching up to run her hands along it,  but her fingers didn’t find the object she sought, and she settled on her heels with irritation. It would have been too obvious to  find a spare key, and in fact, she thought, how unlike William it would  be, putting his own safety at risk.  Ice spread up her spine. What if something really had happened to him? That had nothing to do with drinking or gambling...

“Can I help ye girl?” 

Eliza couldn’t  compose herself quickly enough to avoid showing her fright at the interruption and she spun wildly to see  a plump, matronly woman standing on the doorstep of the house next door , hand fisted on her hip, an apron streaked with the evidence of that morning’s cookery and her greying hair, pulled up into a  fraying bun at the base of her neck.

“Oh... I … I’m looking for Inspector Wellington, he lives here.” Eliza smiled widely . 

“Aye, ‘at he does,  hoo wants  ta know?”  the woman looked at her, tilting her head with cautious concern. “ Ya one of ‘is tarts?”

Eliza bristled at the insinuation, simultaneously disgusted and dismayed by the notion and she  straightened her back, holding her dirtied gloves behind her back.

“No! Not at all, I’m William’s … friend. Miss Scarlet,” Eliza offered, and recognition glittered in the older woman’s eyes.

“Ah, ‘Liza, yeah ‘e’s mentioned  ya , ” she said, her face lighting up and a faint warmth crept over Eliza’s cheeks. 

“Yes... well... I need to see  him, and I can’t find a spare key. No doubt I could go back across London for the spare that he  has entrusted in my care …" Eliza trailed off. She had no such  key, but she figured a little white lie would be  forgivable , given the circumstances.

His  neighbour didn’t look particularly convinced  but wiped her hands on the sullied apron and held up a hand.

“Wait ‘ere, miss.”

She’d disappeared before Eliza could do otherwise and returned only a moment or so l ater holding up the large key that would gain her the access she needed.


End file.
